


Instincts

by Andromeda_Cain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-02
Updated: 2013-01-13
Packaged: 2017-11-06 15:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andromeda_Cain/pseuds/Andromeda_Cain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Derek are constantly fighting. But, perhaps there's a reason behind that? A lustful reason? I dunno. Derek/Scott slash DON'T READ IF YA DON'T LIKE HOMOSEXUAL LURVE</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which we meet the characters

He’s staring at me. Looking at me, his eyes piercing my very soul as he just…stares. He’s leaning against the wall, looking so nonchalant. I just wanna tear the very skin off of his face. I wanna bite a hole through his shoulder. I wanna pull at his hair, and it wouldn’t even matter if I was rough ‘cuz he heals easily. He’s a werewolf, for fuck’s sake.

He keeps staring at me, a smirk appearing on his face. I gulp, not knowing how to proceed. How this whole thing started, I don’t really remember. All I can tell you is I’m extremely angry. Red is beginning to taint the corners of my vision, and I breathe in a shaky breath, hoping to God or whatever deity that I can control myself. Control all of my urges.

His moves are sudden, so he catches me off guard when he quickly pushes off of the wall, walking toward me with that casual gait. I close my eyes, clenching my fists as he circles me, sniffing. He can smell my tension, my bloodlust, my regular lust. He knows. 

He finally stops, and I can sense his body just inches from mine, though with my eyes closed it’s only a faint line of white that appears in my line of sight. He’s standing there, still as a statue, and I curse every single deity I can think of for causing my uncontrollable thoughts, my feelings, my desire. I open my eyes slowly, my vision following my eyelids, slowly starting from the tips of his beat up white converse, travelling up his worn black skinny jeans, casually stopping at the place where the zipper ended, before gliding up to see his old Franz Ferdinand t-shirt, and finally ending at his nearly perfect face, riddled with stubble. His hazel eyes narrow, his mouth turned down in a dominant frown, and I almost lose my control when Derek Hale lifts his shirt to scratch at something bothering his abs.

We’ve been in his house for a while now, both of us not wanting to start this first. We’ve been at each other’s throats lately, and our opposing friction has come to a tremendous standstill as we wait for the other’s move. His next line is what sends me over the edge. 

“You’re a worthless little cunt.”

I snarl, baring my fangs, my eyes glowing a dangerous amber. I crouch, a low growl escaping my lips. He mimics me, his eyes glaring menacingly.   
It is he who makes the first move, jumping at me and slamming me into the wall. He punches me, hard, and I feel blood gush out of my burst lip. I retaliate by ripping into his exposed neck, pulling out as much skin as possible. Looks like I get one of my wishes.

He lets out an enraged howl, throwing me against the opposing wall and stalking forward after me, picking me up again and slamming me into the ground. I see bright lights flashing in my eyes, before I close them, shaking my head. I stand up, feet unsure, a hand out for guidance.  
He laughs, victorious. “That’s right. The next time you wanna let out your little high school problems on someone, it had better not be me. Or else I will fucking kill you, no matter the Alpha.”

I let out a half-assed growl, not really able to put much effort into it. He’s just so…irritatingly annoying and sexy at the same time. I find it hard to breathe as I keep looking at him, so I turn, exiting his house wordlessly.

As I am just reaching the outskirts of his land, I hear a low chuckle.

∴∴∴

I’ve reached my house. The sun has set, darkness spreads around me as I walk up to the front door, taking my key out and unlocking it. I slowly trudge up my steps, part of my mind noticing that Mom isn’t here. What a surprise.

I kick open my door, taking out some of my frustration on it. Goddamn werewolf. Didn’t have to go so fucking crazy. All I did was let out some of my frustrations from lacrosse on him. Not like he had to take it the wrong way. I thought this is the way that wolves treat each other in packs. Guess not.

I let out a long sigh, falling onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I thought back. Derek’s serious face, his frown prominent as he stalked toward me, intentions to beat me to a pulp clear. I swallow, a lump in my throat and jeans as my thoughts carry me back to remember the feel of him, pushing himself up against me, making it hard to breathe. I take in a shaky breath, my eyes closing as I lose myself to this reverie.

It seems natural when my hand slowly snakes down to cup my extremely hard groin, sensitive to the cloth rubbing against it. I unbutton my beat up blue jeans, slipping a hand underneath the material and slowly drawing out my pulsing cock. My tongue licks my lips wantonly as I grip myself, rubbing my thumb against the tip slowly yet firmly.

I continue with this for a while, letting myself get used to the sensation, before I start stroking my dick fully, letting out soft moans at the delicious friction. My eyes keep conjuring up images, only this time imaginary. Derek, taking the place of my hand with his mouth. Derek, fondling my tits with his calloused hands. Derek, grinding into me with his equally hard cock.

I groan, speeding up the process, whispering Derek’s name over an over. It becomes a sort of mantra, his name leaking from my lips without precedence. I pump myself as fast as I can, when finally the image of Derek, slumped over, while I slam into him pulls me over the edge. I let out a long, loud cry of his name, ecstasy washing over me as I cum all over myself and my freshly-made bed.

I had somehow gotten to a sitting position during this process, and I let myself fall back on the bed, a satisfied grunt letting loose. I closed my eyes, pulling the sheet over the bottom half of my body, too tired to do anything else as I let my eyes close, one name on my lips and one man in my eyes.


	2. A Chapter in Which More Ensues

He's close. I can feel him. My eyes are closed, but with my mouth open, I can literally taste his scent. It makes my mouth water, this mixture of smells that come only from Derek. Makes me want to dominate him. Makes me want to let him dominate me.

He's in front of me now. His hand's stroking my side, his face is coming closer…I can't help but let out a frustrated whine at how slow he is. He chuckles, his tongue snaking out to lick at my lips, bared in frustration. My lips slowly change to form appreciative moans, my hands reaching around his waist. He lets out a laugh this time, amused that I would try to take possession of him. He tears my hands off of him, holding them behind my back as he kisses me, unable to stop his smile in the process. I can feel his chest rising in time with mine, his lips slowly making their way—

"Dude, you have got a raging boner."

My eyes shoot open, only to close when they see who would dare to interrupt my sleep. He's leaning against the wall, his hip cocked in that endless effort to be cool. His eyes are narrowed, trying to be at least kind of respectful of my privacy as he ignores the sight of my naked body, resting only on my face. Fucking Stiles.

I pull the sheets over myself, checking to see if his statement is correct. Yep. Totally hard. I sigh, rubbing my eyes to try to wake myself up. "Get outta here, Stiles. Go bug my mom or something; I need to get ready."

He looks kind of hurt, but he just nods, sighing as he lopes off to go downstairs and probably snag some food. I watch him go, sorry if I made him feel bad. Once I can hear his breathing downstairs, I look down at the hard-on again. "Fuck, looks like I got something to get rid of," I say to myself, my grin portraying how happy I am to oblige.

~~~

I'm at school, tons of students are here, and I am going to burst. I bang my head against my locker, closing my eyes as I try to think calming thoughts. Thoughts that aren't of Derek. It's not working.

Someone comes up behind me and puts their hand on my shoulder. I turn around, my eyes glaring. Yeah, I could go for a fight right now. My anger deflates once I see who it is. "Allison," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. She makes me feel terrible, and I don't want to think of just why that is.

"Scott, are you all right? I saw you in History, and you looked…bad," she ends, and I can tell she was thinking of a different adjective.

I let out a tense smile. "Uh, I'm fine. Just…stuff…is happening. You know?"

Allison narrows her eyes, not buying it. I hate how perceptive she can get sometimes. Before she can drill me with any more questions, I slam my locker door shut, waving at her as I walk down the hall. "Talk to you later," I say, turning around.

I can hear her heartbeat quicken as I walk away. I know she feels bad about how we ended. I know she kind of regrets her rash thinking. Hell, I kind of miss her too. But…there's someone else now. Someone I didn't let myself think of when I was with Allison. I breathe in roughly. Dammit, I didn't want to think about Derek.

I sigh, adjusting the straps of my backpack as I walk forward, my eyes staring at the ground. I'm surprised when someone bumps into me.

"Hey, McCall. Maybe people wouldn't think you were such a freak if you actually looked up once in a while."

It's Jackson, the lousy son of a bitch. He's glaring at me, his mouth frowning and his eyes blazing. Damn, he wants to pick a fight with me. I lean against a nearby locker, my arms crossed. No way in hell is this asshole gonna get a rise out of me. I stay silent, my eyes narrowed. I don't want to have to drop his ass, but I will if he keeps testing me.

"What, you so stupid you forgot to talk?" Jackson asks, his grin astounding seeing as he came up with such a lameass insult. I stare at him incredulously, wondering if he's stupid. Yeah, probably.

I tire of this stupidity, so I push off of the wall, which reminds me of that damn werewolf. Yet again. I shake my head as I start walking to third period.

Jackson comes up behind me, shoving my shoulder. Hard. I spin around, trying to control my werewolf instincts as he glares, his eyes searching through his mind for something to piss me off.

"Maybe now that Allison realised what a freak you are she'll go out with me, her awesome, trustworthy friend," Jackson states, and I know he's just grasping at straws here.

I smile. "Really, now?" I ask, amused that Jackson would think he has a chance with someone as awesome as Allison. No way in hell.

Jackson growls, frustrated. "Goddammit. Well, whatever, you're so gay you're probably glad she broke up with you, since you can finally start sucking Derek's cock," Jackson says, his eyes disappointed as he starts to turn away.

I catch him midstride, slamming him into the lockers. "What the fuck did you say?" I growl out, my fangs growing of their own accord.

Jackson grins delightedly. He laughs, happy that he finally found something that would piss me off. "Me? Nothing! Just stating a fact, you know, that you and Derek suck each other's balls."

I breathe in a shaky breath, tossing that extremely provocative image out of my imagination. Not now. I need to focus on this little bastard. I punch the space next to him, leaving a very big indentation. I don't plan on hurting him, but I do want to scare him.

Jackson looks at the mark out of the corners of his eyes and smiles. Fucking smiles! He pushes me away from him, his hands poised on his hips. He's ecstatic that he can cause me to get so angry. "What, does it hit home? Does Scott think that cock sucking is fun? Does Scott want to suck Derek's cock right now? Or maybe, he just wants to get fuc—"

He can't talk anymore because I'm punching his fucking brains out. Wailing on him, just absolutely fucking his face up. My eyes start to see red and I know I'm going way out of control, but I can't stop. Seeing his pummeled face just makes me angrier. Hearing his muffled cries makes me punch harder.

It's only after about five guys pull me off and sit on me that my eyesight slowly starts to come back to me. I'm covered in blood, none of which is my own. I have absolutely no trace of scars on myself. I look over to see Jackson lying there, his hands covering his face. He's embarrassed that he lost the fight. Also, he's in terrible pain. My mouth opens and closes as I try to come up with some words that could make this right. But what the fuck do I say?

The guys on top of me are staring, their gazes so judgmental. Their eyes indicate absolute disgust. I keep opening my mouth, but I can't think of anything in my defense.

~~~

Mom's absolutely pissed. There's no other adjective you could think of to describe her. She's horribly, completely, miserably pissed off. She's screaming at me right now, in the kitchen. She screamed at me in school, screamed at me in the car, and now here. I'm surprised her vocal chords haven't snapped by now.

Her voice soon tapers down, turning out gravelly and shaken. There are tears in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down at any second. I stare up at her miserably, hanging onto the chair I am sitting on. I don't know how to make this right. I couldn't think of any words during this whole time. While her voice is used up, mine is perfect. I could scream, laugh, talk, howl. I could do anything I fucking want. But I can't. I have a feeling this has something to do with shock; I've seen some animals in the vet's office who've acted like me.

Mom stares at me, shaking her head. She finally closes her eyes, slumping her shoulders, which obviously care a heavy burden. She just points at the stairs, obviously signaling it's time for me to go to my room. I get up dejectedly, my eyes unable to look anywhere but the floor as I trudge up the stairs, pushing my door open with half-effort.

I throw myself on the bed, the back of my hand covering my eyes. I didn't want anything like this to happen. I didn't want to beat Jackson to a pulp.

I curl into the fetal position, my eyes closed as silent tears leak out of them. I start gnawing on my sleeve, trying to muffle any possible sounds I could make. All I want to do is see Derek. I let myself drift off, unable to get the werewolf off of my mind. Unable to convince myself that I don't want to see him.

~~~

I open my eyes to the sounds of birds chirping, leaves shuffling, and footsteps on wood. The sky is dark, clouds partially covering a crescent moon. I roll my eyes over to the feet in front of me.

I slowly look up to see Derek, his arms crossed. "What the fuck are you doing on my front porch?" he asks, and I can sense that something pissed him off, and my presence is just icing on the cake.

I shake my head, trying to clear it. The last thing I remember is falling asleep on my bed, wishing I could see Derek…oh, fuck. Did I sleepwalk or some shit? I slowly sit up, leaning against the door of his house for support. Damn, my muscles are sore. What the fuck did I do?

Derek's extremely pissed that I'm not answering his question. He walks over, grabs my shirt, and lifts me up so that we're eye-to-eye.

"Listen, I'm in an extremely bad mood. The fact that you come up here, fall asleep on my porch, then don't even tell me what the fuck is going on is seriously making me pissed off. So, I'm gonna ask again. What. The fuck. Are you. Doing. On my. Front porch?"

I shake my head, my eyes refusing to open more than halfway. "I-I don't know! I must have sleepwalked or something! Come on, let me down!"

Derek glares, his mouth a hard line. "I don't think so. You've been acting differently. Every time I see you, you get weirder and weirder. I can smell the lust on you. Are you gay or something?"

My mouth and eyes widen in shock. I never thought he would just bring it up. I can't help but notice the proximity of our bodies, which makes my mouth water and my groin feel unbearably heated. "W-w-what the fuck? No way, man. I'm totally straight, you know, A-Allison and all. Totally, completely homos—I mean, heterosexual. Yessireebob, No way I could be anything but—"

His hand on my mouth silences me, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Shut the fuck up, your voice is pissing me off," he says, leaning his head back. He suddenly stares at me, his eyes still narrowed. "All right," he says, "I'm gonna let you down, but on one condition. You tell me what the fuck is going on with you, so that I can deal with it. All right?"

I slowly nod, unable to close my mouth for fear I would lose the taste of his hand. Fuck, when did I get so fucking messed up?

He nods in response, letting me down and taking his hand off my mouth. I quietly sigh in consternation, missing the warmth of his body already.

He opens the door silently, crossing the stairs as he makes his way towards the kitchen. I follow, unable to get the image of a puppy following its master out of my mind.

He gestures towards the shaky table with only two chairs. I obediently sit, watching as he takes the more usable one. He's slouched in that chair, his arms crossed. The only adjective that could describe him right now is manly. I let out a quiet, longing moan, but cover it up with a cough. I don't think I'm fooling anyone.

He stares at me, his eyes narrowed. "All right, so if you're not gay, why the fuck do you smell like lust every time you're around me?" He asks, and I'm taken aback by his forwardness. I feel like one of those eighteenth century ladies, you know, the ones who are always taken aback by men's forwardness. I sigh in dismay when I realise I've admitted to myself that I would be the girl in this relationship.

I realise that the longer I take to answer his questions, the angrier he gets. "Uh, why do you think? You know, teenage, hormonal boy here," is my flimsy excuse.

He can sense that I'm lying, listening to my quickened heartbeat. "You think I believe that?" He asks, his crossed arms hugging his waist. I narrow my eyes, wondering why his heart's beating fast too.

Derek grows uncomfortable, shifting in his chair. "Dude, stop staring at me," he says, looking out of the window.

I keep studying him, unable to get the feeling that he's hiding something out of my head. I watch as he slowly moves his head, his eyes piercing mine. "Did you hear me? I said get your fucking eyes off of me."

And with that, I leap out of my chair, landing on Derek, whose face is absolutely shocked. Goddammit, he's so hot. Even when he's caught by surprise.

I didn't calculate our body masses combined. The chair smashes, and Derek ends up on his back, my hands pinning his arms to the floor. He's stronger than me, yeah, but I've got the element of surprise. I take advantage of this, smashing my lips to his. It's not the first kiss I imagined, yeah, but it's still extremely sexy. Derek's surprisingly soft lips get sucked into my mouth, my teeth gently biting at the skin. He lets out an involuntary groan, which makes me shudder in absolute ecstasy.

I swipe my tongue along the inside of his mouth, the heat causing my cock to harden painfully. He moves his lips with mine, our tongues colliding with enough force to bruise. I let go of his arms, moving my hands across his body, ending at his hips, which I grip forcefully. My mistake.

I'm suddenly flipped over, my hands pinned above my head, Derek breathing hard above me. Our hard-ons are nearly touching, which makes me moan in need. He ignores me, his eyes glaring. "What…the fuck…do you think you're doing?" he gasps out.

I'm breathing hard too. "Just…did…what you didn't…have the courage…to do," I pant, my tongue lolling.

Derek lets in a painful breath, staring at the tongue that was just recently inside his mouth. He forces himself to look away, staring at my eyes, which I can tell are a glowing golden.

"What do you mean?" he asks, outraged. "I'm not the gay one here, it's you!"

I look pointedly down at the two erections, my gaze obviously my response. He follows my eyes, looking back up with red cheeks.

He releases his hold on me, standing up. "I-I…you should get out of here," he finally says, his eyes unwilling to look at me.

"D-Derek-k, come on—"

"No. Just…please, get out."

I look up at him, my hands fisted at my sides, my eyes leaking tears unabashedly. "F-f-fine. Y-you want to-o igno-nore it, g-go ahead."

I run out of the house, ignoring his call of "Scott!" and his outstretched hand. I streak home, hardly noticing my surroundings. Fucking werewolf. Couldn't give in to his fucking emotions.

I slam into the wall of our house, breathing hard, sobbing. I curl up into a ball, unable to do anything right now but cry.


	3. Sexual Revelations?

It’s still dark when I wake up. I’m disoriented as I look around, trying to remember what happened, and why I’m lying outside of my house. I shake my head, trying to loosen my sleep-deprived thoughts. They’re not coming back to me, though. I feel the side of my face, wondering why it hurts. Oh, fantastic. The pebbles I was lying on left a large impression on most of the left side of my face.

I groan, sitting up slowly, taking in a sharp breath as the blood rushes to my head. I’m shivering with the cold, my teeth chattering. I use the house for support as I stand, my movements awkward and clumsy. When I’m finally upright, my memories come slamming back to me and I wince, almost losing my balance.

I see Derek’s expression, so full of hate and malice. I see him reject me, and his feelings. I remember how he didn’t even bother to follow me, to see if I was all right. Maybe…he didn’t really like me. Maybe he wasn’t lying.

I lean against the wall, a shaking hand covering my eyes. I know it’s not very manly, but I can’t help the tears flooding out from my sore eyes. I can’t help this gut-wrenching pain I feel deep inside my stomach, making me want to throw up just to see if that will get rid of the torturous feelings.

When nothing happens, I just take in a shaky breath, pushing off of the wall to enter my house, which is unlocked for some reason. Still shivering, I shut the door quietly, making sure not to wake my mom. I walk further into the house, squinting to see what the digital clock on the microwave reads. “4:17,” I whisper, then groan. God, at least I don’t have to go to school for a week.

I look up at the stairs through the corners of my eyes. Jesus, if I tried braving those, I wouldn’t get very far before falling back down them. In truth, it would be a Sisyphean effort. ((Haha, I had that for a vocabulary term last year. I finally get to use it! _^o.o^_)) Huh, there’s a word you’ll never hear from me again.

I just sigh, grabbing a blanket that seems to appear out of nowhere and flop down face-first on the couch, closing my eyes. A few seconds pass. Suddenly I sit up straight, my legs criss-crossed. “Fuck…” I whisper to myself, rubbing a palm against my exhausted face. No matter how tired I might be, that doesn’t change the fact that I’m only seventeen ((I think that’s his age…I’m too lazy to check.)) and I’ve already lost the love of my life twice. And one of those times, the girl’s father tried to kill me, as well as the rest of her family. And the other time, he was a guy. Shit, what a fucked-up life I live.

I groan when I realise I sound like a whiney bitch. Goddammit.

Derek’s face pops back in without notice and I let out a tiny whine, digging my face into a cushion. If this keeps up, the next time I get some sleep is when I collapse from exhaustion. Fucking werewolf asshole cunty dick-face whore. Looking so fucking goddamn sexy. Rejecting me so easily, as though I don’t really matter. Making me feel like an idiotic five year old.

I groan into the cushion, the pain in my heart worse than anything I’ve ever experienced. This is worse than when Allison dumped me. This is worse than when I got turned into a werewolf. This is worse than just wanting Derek. This is real. This is love-sickness.

I curl into myself, my eyes, body, heart, soul all sore. I shut my eyes tight, remembering how Derek felt. How he smelt. How I could feel his racing heart beat in time with mine. How eager he seemed at first. How he looked at me, for just a small millisecond of time. How I felt as though maybe we could be together.

“Ignorant little fuck,” I berate myself, shoving my hands through my ruffled hair, my fingernails scraping against my scalp. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” I state, my chin hitting my chest in despair. Finally, when I realise that sleep is just a passing thought for me now, I flip on the TV, hoping that somehow it’ll distract me.

Oh, shit, a dude that looks like Derek. Tyler Hoechlin or whatever. I quickly flip away from that channel, sighing when I finally end up on a shitty movie. Utterly fantastic.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s four days into my suspension and I’m dying.

Laying on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, my mind a blank. These days, I find it hard to leave bed unless it’s utterly important, like taking a piss. Other than that, though, I just stay here, hoping that nothing will remind me of “He Who Must Not Be Named”. My head pops up when I hear the knob on my door turn, stupidly thinking it may be him.

“Shit, man, this place reeks,” Stiles says, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger to accentuate his point. “No, seriously,” he says in response to my groan, “did you take a dump in this place? When was the last time you took a shower?”

Summoning up the energy to roll my eyes, I flip my arm over them, hoping that if I can’t see him, he can’t see me.

“Dude, your hair looks like Jack White’s,” he says, his voice closer to me. I can imagine him standing over me, a disgusted look on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets, one of those stupid button-up shirts left open to reveal a shitty band name. I move my arm a fraction of an inch to show him my glare. "Hey," he says through a small chuckle, "just sayin'. Anyway, I'm here with all the homework you didn't ask me to bring." He flops the papers on the bed, silent for a few seconds. "You're welcome," he says pointedly, his eyes accusing.

I finally move my arm away from my eyes, squinting at him. "Oh, yeah, totally, thanks for barging in my room, insulting me and my odor, and dropping off homework that I just can't wait to start on," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

He takes it in stride, sitting back in my desk chair. "You know, man, you seem...I dunno. Depressed or something." He raises his eyebrows at my lowered ones. I turn my face away, hoping he doesn't notice anything. No chance. "Dude, seriously, I'm here for you if you, like, I don't know, wanna talk about Allison and all that...I know you guys had a bad end and I for one feel..." He continues on like this, babbling. I can't summon the energy to stop him. Fucking Stiles.

Finally, I have to do something when his sentences turn into fragments and his eyes become confused. "Stiles. Stop. Seriously." I say, holding up my hand to accentuate my command.

"F-figurative language..." He says randomly, leaning back in his chair to try to ease himself. Oh, fuck, chair...I wince as just thinking too much about a chair brings Der-- "He Who Must Not Be Named" back into my thoughts.

Trying to contain myself, I speak around grit teeth. "Allison and I...we're through. We have been for a while. I think she knew that; she just needed a good enough excuse. And she found one." I've sat up by now, and lean my head back against my headboard, shutting my eyes. "I don't really even think about her anymore."

I don't have to open my eyes to notice Stiles' confusion. "Wait...so...uh...then what's got you so down? I haven't mentioned the fight with Jackson yet, but that was weird too. Is it just a werewolf instinctual thing? Did Derek say anything about that?"

I can't stop the choked intake of breath when I hear his name. My eyes, closed before, are now open, threatening to leak tears. Stiles jumps back, almost falling out of his chair. "W-whoa!" He cries out, grabbing my desk for balance. When he's firmly upright, Stiles finally looks at me, his expression flabbergasted. "Holy shit dude, you look like I just killed your puppy or something. Did De-- uh, did he do something or...uh...something?" He ends lamely, editing out Derek's name just in case I go crazy again.

Evasively, I stand up, throwing my covers back. "You know, you're right. I do look and smell disgusting. I think I'll take a shower, thanks for bringin--"

Stiles whips me around, staring into my eyes. "Dude. We're best friends. You can tell me anything." He pauses for a few seconds, his stance shifting uncomfortably. His cheeks suddenly grow red and he won't look at me. "Did he, uh...ta-take advantage of you or something?" He finally blurts out, digging his hands into his pockets.

My eyes widen, my mouth open in shock. Surprisingly, a little laugh escapes my lips, startling my best friend. "N, no, he didn't," I say around my laughter, holding my sides, "I did."

Stiles' eyes go wide, unable to speak for a few minutes. When he finally realises he can use his mouth, he does. "WHATTHEFUCKDOYOUMEANYOUTOOKADVANTAGEOFHIMWHATDIDYOUDODIDHEMAKEYOUAREYOUGAYIDIDNTKNOWYOUWEREGAYWHATTHEFUCKISGOINGON!" He ends as quickly as he starts, panting. He really put forth some effort into that shouting.

I stretch, leaning against the wall. "You know, I haven't laughed in a while. It felt good," I say, a slow smile appearing.

Stiles just stands there, a helpless expression on his face, unable to form a coherent sentence. A few words will pop out of his mouth at times, such as "wait" "fuck" and "penis", which I guess means "Wait, you took advantage of Derek? Does that mean you guys slept together? Fuck, I don't even get how that's supposed to happen...I mean, where do you even put your penis?" I don't know if my deduction was correct, but I'm betting it was.

I finally sit Stiles down, deciding that I should tell him the truth, starting at the beginning. Hopefully, his brain will still be able to function afterwards.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm back in school. Well, not really, I haven't actually reached the school property, but it counts if I'm on my way there. I'm sitting in the passenger seat of Stiles' car, my feet resting on the dashboard and tapping against the window nervously. "Hey, man, you're scuffing up my window," he says. I ignore him.

He sighs, shaking his head. He turns on the radio, probably to drown out the silence. A stupid sappy song about unrequited love comes on and I immediately switch the channel. "What, you missed church so now you have to make up for it?" I'm confused by this, until I realise I picked a station with a preacher yelling into the microphone about the wrongness of homosexuality. "Ha, how ironic," Stiles states thoughtlessly, oblivious to the death glare I shoot him. He just smiles, switching to an Indie music station.

I lean my head back, looking over at Stiles through the corners of my eyes. I'm still afraid he'll think I'm weird for liking a guy. But, he's actually been pretty cool about it. Except for the tactless jokes. "So," he says out of the blue. I turn towards him, wondering if he'll change his mind about being "cool". "As a gay guy, are you...attracted to me?"

I groan into my palm. This is that infatuation with Danny all over again. "No, seriously! I wanna know, do you find me even a little hot?"

I sigh, turning my full attention on him. Nothing comes to mind but 'Whoa, that's an ugly shirt.' I shake my head. "Sorry, man," I say, feeling kind of sorry for him.

He nods his head, not speaking for a bit. Finally he says, "Well, that's good. There's no good way I could turn you down." He smiles at me, punching my shoulder.

"Oh, thank God we're at school," I state, sitting up straight as Stiles turns into a parking place.

"Hey, I thought you enjoyed the pleasure of my company," he says, following me around the hood of the car.

"The only thing about you that I enjoy is your car," I say, smiling at Stiles' outraged expression. "Well, anywa--" my words die on my lips when I see what's in front of me.

"What?" Stiles asks, coming up behind me. He stops next to me when he sees what made me silent.

There, resting against that sexy Camaro, is the equally sexy but much more dangerous Derek Hale. His eyes are serious and his stance moody, his arms crossed defiantly as he stares down all the looks he's receiving, ignoring all the whispers. When he catches my scent, he looks toward me. He gestures from me to himself, signaling that I should get the hell over there. I'm finding it hard to breathe, and wonder if my asthma's picked up again. "Want me to go with you?" Stiles asks, glaring at the werewolf across from him. He turns meek, though, once Derek turns his head towards Stiles, who steps a little behind me. I repress my urge to giggle, just patting Stiles on the shoulder before starting forward, my expression turning serious.

As I get closer, I can literally smell the anxiety rolling off of Derek. It makes me want him in a weird way. I guess I'm attracted to the fact that I can make him anxious? I decide to ignore these questionable feelings, my face set in a mask as I finally reach him.

We both stand stand there awkwardly, studying each other. I'm sure he notices my red eyes, along with a bunch of other imperfections. He, on the other hand, looks absolutely perfect, as usual. Not even a hair is out of place. The only sign he's had any trouble the past few days is his smell. Which, as noted before, is absolutely intoxicating. Shifting his feet, Derek finally speaks. "Uh...get in the car."

I widen my eyes, my expression indignant. "And why the hell would I do that?!" I ask him, my tone coming out in an unwarranted yell.

"Just do what I fucking say," he growls out through his teeth. Not waiting for a response, he grabs my wrist, pulling me around the car. He opens the passenger side door and unceremoniously throws me in, shutting the door on my protests.

He gets in the car then, shifting into drive and pealing away from my stunned fellow students.

We don't talk for a while, he stares straight ahead, I try to stop myself from staring at him (unsuccessfully). Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, I shout, "All right, just what the fuck is going on?!"

Derek shoots me a glare, flipping on a turn signal. "Things ended weirdly between us. If we're gonna be in a pack together, there's no way we can leave this hanging."

"Wait wait wait. Who said I was gonna be in your pack?" I ask, my tone disbelieving.

"You think you and the people you care about are going to be okay, the way you drag them into stuff they shouldn't know about and risk their lives almost every day?"

That makes me pause. He's got a point there. Not wanting to verbally concede to that fact, I turn away from him. "So what? I'll be more careful next time; won't drag anyone into the werewolf-stuff anymore."

He stares at me, forgetting the road for a second. Finally he just pulls off to the side of the road, taking off his seatbelt so he can face me fully. "First of all, 'werewolf-stuff'?" I just ignore that, looking out of the window pointedly. He continues. "Secondly, you think it'll be easy? What about the next time you get caught by the Argents? Do you think they'll just tap you on the back, yell 'You're it' and expect you to chase them? It doesn't work that way! The only way werewolves function effectively is in a pack. It's the only way we can survive."

I turn to face Derek, who's looking out of the windshield, seemingly lost in thought. I forgot he had all that with his family; of course he would want it again. Of course he misses that feeling of fitting in. He's so aloof and self-confident, it's easy to forget that he can get lonely too. As I stare at him, it's impossible to resist the urge to touch him. So I don't.

I reach a hand out, resting it on his cheek. My thumb strokes it gently, reveling in just the feel of his skin. He looks at me, his gaze unreadable. His hand slowly comes up to grip mine. It's as he holds my hand that I feel connected to him, his shaky grip telling me more than his words ever have. I can tell he misses human contact; he misses affection. His lips are trembling, his eyes endless in their depth of sadness. I lean towards him, closing my eyes as I try to place my lips on his.

"N...no," he states, letting go of my hand and holding up both of his as a barrier. "I said we need to be a pack. Not mates." His voice is still trembling with emotion.

"Can't we be both?" I ask, this time taking his hand in mine, kissing it gently.

He shivers, caught up in the moment as my lips slowly trail their way to his forefinger, biting the tip of it gently. He shuts his eyes. "No..." He says again, trying to take his hand away. I don't let him. I hold it with both of my hands now, unwilling to let go.

"Derek...just, let this happen. We can see what happens, experience it together. You mean more to me than Allison ever did."

He stares at me, his expression blank. Finally, he speaks. "How do you expect me to respond to that?" He asks, his face angry. He whips his hand away from my grasp, fumbling with the door handle as he tries to get out. He finally manages it open, leaving the car without another word. I open my door, following him as he runs out into the woods. "Derek!" I cry, unwilling to believe he would just run away.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What is this. What the fuck is this?! Why does this faggy little punk affect me? The only girl I ever loved was Kate, and she turned out to be a psycho bitch who just wanted to kill my family. So why the fuck would this stupid, gangly, pubescent little fuck make me feel like this?

These thoughts are racing through my mind as I exit the car, ungraceful in my haste. All I can think is 'Get the fuck out of here now!' I can hear the little asshole now, running after me. “Just leave me the fuck alone, Scott,” I grit out, knowing he can hear me.

“No fucking way,” he responds, and he sounds closer than he should. Fuck, have I lost my stamina? Were all those random workouts for nothing? I shake my head, pushing myself to go faster. Still, he keeps chasing after me.

“I’m not fucking worth it!” I yell out, catching myself before I trip on a vine. This is all the hesitation he needs.

He rams into me, pushing me to the ground. We struggle, his hands touching places you wouldn’t normally expect them to be in a fight. I growl, trying to buck him off of me. Sickeningly, he gets a boner. “Goddammit, what the fuck?!” I cry out, trying to loosen my arms from the grip he has them in.

“S…sorry,” he states, not seeming to mean it. His eyes are hooded so I can’t see them well, but he perturbs me all the same. Finally, he gets enough leverage to pin my legs down with his knees, rendering me motionless, except for my head.

“Ow!” He cries out when my head hits his. He glares down at me, then reciprocates my headbutt with a hickey on my racing pulse.

I let out an almost-shriek, my body involuntarily bucking again. This just gets him more worked up though, as his werewolf instincts start to kick in. His eyes turn gold as he sucks on my neck, trying to fit in as much of my skin as he can. I howl, digging my hands into the dirt. “Scott! Your instincts are making you like this! Just calm down; breathe evenly!”

He ignores me, brushing his hard-on against my leg. “It hurts,” he whines into my ear, panting softly. I’m confused, before he rubs his erection fully against my leg. “Pants…constricting…”

My gaze is quizzical, before an expression of horrified understanding appears on my face. “Oh, no, oh, fuck no, there is no fucking way you are taking your fucking pants off you stupid fuck!”

Scott just whimpers, his rubbing turning into full-fledged humps. “Mm…fuck…sounds good…” he says between humps, biting my ear affectionately and territorially.

“OH HELL NO,” I shout, finding enough strength to push the horny kid off of me, pinning him down. I sigh, seeing that our positions have become reversed. He’s just panting expectantly, not tearing his eyes away from my boner. Wait a second, what? I risk a doubletake to find that yes, indeed, my penis responded to this kid’s awkward movements. Oh, Jesus, what the fuck is wrong with me?

I sigh, digging my head into the area of ground above the kid’s shoulder. He gasps in excitement, wondering if I’ll do something. “Don’t get your hopes up, Kid,” I state, exhausted. There is no fucking way this is happening. There is no fucking way that I’m into a snot-nosed little bastard like this. I’m straight, for fuck’s sake!

Looking pointedly down at my boner for a second, I concede that maybe I’m not so straight. I curve off a bit more than I expected. I turn my gaze to Scott’s eyes, my expression weary. Staring in his expectant, wanting, possessive eyes makes me shiver, so much so that I have to look away. Fuck, I haven’t been through this in a while. Hormonal werewolves are the worst. I don’t even have a way to calm this little fuck down. Sighing, I rub my cheek against my shoulder, wondering how I’ll get out of this situation. Finally, as I hear a tiny noise, inspiration strikes.

Sure, it’s about fifty degree weather right now, but I’m sure the kid will survive. He’s a fucking werewolf for Christ’s sake.

Without warning, I stand up, pulling the kid over my shoulder. “Oh, shit, you weigh more than I did when I was your age,” I state, grunting at how much weight the kid’s packed on.

“Are we gonna play a sex game?” Scott asks eagerly, and that’s when I notice his erection digging into my shoulder uncomfortably. I sigh. Sadly, I’m gonna have to play along if I’m gonna get him anywhere.

“Yeah, it’s a sex game. You’re gonna get…wet,” I state, not used to dirty talk. He seems to be eating it up though, if the fact that he’s eagerly rubbing his penis against my shoulder blade says anything. I swallow, trying to ignore my own penis. Instead, I head off towards the direction of that sound, trying to hold the kid’s hips farther away from me. His thrusts have started to become violent; it’s really starting to become painful for my shoulder.

Thankfully, we reach the water in a matter of seconds, thanks to my speedy little legs. Sometimes, being a werewolf has its ups. Then again, we wouldn’t be in this situation if Scott wasn’t a werewolf.

I wade as deeply into the water as I dare, shivering already as goosebumps start to riddle my body haphazardly. “Ooh, what are we—“ his sentence is unfinished as I unceremoniously dump him in the water, throwing him out as far as I can. I’m hoping the cold will calm him down; it already got rid of my boner.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT IT’S SO FUCKING FREEZING!” Scott exclaims, jumping up and racing towards the shore. Smirking, I notice that now he’s now only at half-mast. Thank God for cold water.

I wade back to shore, standing next to Scott with my arms crossed. “So, think about that the next time you try to rape me,” I state, unable to make my smirk even a little pitying.

He glares at me, his whole body shivering violently. “Yuh-yuh-yuh…yooooouu buh-buh-buh-bastard!” He stutters out, “Geh-get me ou-out of-f here!”

I comply, grabbing his hand and towing him behind me, chuckling. What a funny little kid.


	4. In Which a Relationship is Established

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some shit went down on my fanfiction account for this story (mainly, I acted like a big asshole who couldn't take any criticism) but I've matured and picked up my maimed ego and am now a new, less-egotistical writer who is willing to admit that she's an idiot. So, yeah.

The waitress plops down our coffee, eying me with amusement. It's not often you get to see a teen, shivering around a glower, wearing an angsty leather jacket Derek so _graciously_ lent me (said he felt a little bad for almost giving me pneumonia), and quickly grabbing onto his coffee cup to drench some of the warmth from the little thing. I take a long, scalding sip, not even caring that the liquid is burning the inside of my throat, and continues its fiery little path down my pharynx. Too fucking cold to care.

Derek smirks at my actions, before he turns to the waitress. "Thanks, Cheryl, can we get a bowl of chicken soup and a slice of that pie I see up there?" He indicates the one he wants with a pointed finger.

"Anything for you Sugar," Cheryl says, shamelessly flirting even though she could easily pass for twice his age. Derek, the goddamn tool that he is, smiles and winks back at her, sending her off giggling behind her hand.

Still shivering, I shoot a glare at the other werewolf across from me over my cup. "Jesus, that lady's basically a cradle-snatcher," I point out. Derek raises an eyebrow to accompany his smirk. "And what's up with you, encouraging her like that?" I try with all my might to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but somehow it slips out.

Derek's smirk grows larger. "Aww , is wittle Scotty scawed he might have some competition?" Derek mocks, snorting into his own coffee cup at my outraged look.

"Look, I just think it's weird that you're flirting with a lady so much older than you, especially after what happened earlier," I say, lowering my voice at the end and raising my eyebrows suggestively.

I can see how hard Derek is trying to keep back his laughter. Finally, he sobers a little, at least enough to fully explain to me his actions. "Look, Scott, hard as it is to believe, I'm not exactly the most loved guy in town," Derek points out, sarcasm dripping from his words. If only he wasn't so goddamn sexy, I might have been able to get around how hot he is to reassure him how wrong those words sounded to me. He continues before I can grasp lucidity. "So, it's nice to find a place that you can go to without being judged, with good food, great service, and a solitude that's expected and encouraged when you need it." Derek sits back, stretching out a little. I actually have noticed how hard it usually is for him to feel comfortable out in public; usually, he's a little stiff, more uptight than usual, and a sadness is always flitting through his features. My eyes soften in empathy.

Not really thinking, I reach a hand across the table and grab Derek's. He stares at the two hands for a few seconds, not fully there. I deign to flip his hand over, intertwining our fingers. He doesn't make a move to stop me, nor does he seem very mad about it, so I smile, sit back in my seat, and dredge up as much warmth as I can from Derek's hand and my cup of coffee as possible.

Soon the food is served, and if Cheryl notices our hands she doesn't say anything, just raises her eyebrows and grins at Derek before sashaying off, probably to go serve some of the more rowdy customers who needed more attention.

As I set in to my soup, I think back over what brought us here. Most of what happened earlier is caught up in a whirlwind of hormones, lust, and instincts, but I can still remember parts of what happened, like humping Derek to within an inch of his life, humping his goddamn shoulder, and, putting all my other actions to shame, my complaints about my pants being too goddamn _tight_. I moan, cheeks flushing at just the thought of saying something like that to Derek, acting like a fucking animal. Jesus, why the hell is he letting a sick pervert like me hold his hand?

I look back to the hands, gaining a little comfort from the contact. God, his hands are so nice. They're, like, manly in their shape, but not, like, pudgy like usual guy hands. Fucking sexy as hell. I shut my eyes, warding off any perverted thoughts. Enough with the goddamn hormones already.

After my little freaky episode, and after Derek threw me in the lake to clear my head, I was caught up in my anger and didn't really think about anything but how disappointing it was to not be able to finish what was started between me and Derek. Not that last part, but the one before it, where we were actually having a decent conversation. That is, before he raced out on me.

I suddenly look up from my steaming soup, spoon halfway to my lips, to Derek. He gives me a questioning look, but I just ignore it, deciding to speak my mind. "Derek…I just want you to know, that…when I think of you, I definitely don't think of you as similar to Allison." Derek studies me, pie in front of him forgotten. I take a deep breath, plowing on. "Seriously. Like, what I had with her, it was…" I struggle to come up with a word. "Immature." I snap my fingers, a grin spreading on my face. Derek smirks at me through his sip of coffee, but I ignore it. "With you, it's like…I could stay with you forever." I study Derek, watching as he slowly swallows his sip, playing with the fork discarded on his plate, stealing quick glances to our hands, before he finally looks to me. In his eyes I read fear, some anger, and just a tiny bit of reciprocated feelings for me. But mostly fear.

I grin, stroking his hand with my thumb. "And it's for that reason that I wanna know about you. Everything. I wanna know exactly why you ran away from the car, why you're so afraid of commitment, why you're afraid to admit to being gay."

"Hey, wait!" Derek exclaims, startling a couple next to us. We ignore them. "It's not like I'm completely, one hundred percent gay or something! And I mean, it's a pretty good step for me to be holding your goddamn hand in public, for Christ's sake. Maybe I should just keep my hands to myself." He moves to take his hand away, but I frown, keeping my grip on it firm. Derek's eyebrow raises in amusement.

"Okay, maybe that's a step. But…I want everything with you. Everything. And I want you to want everything too."

Derek's mouth twists as he thinks it over. Finally, he looks up at me, staring me fully in the eyes. "Alright. I'm willing to play along. But first, you need to answer your own set of questions." I frown, wondering where this is going. Derek just smirks. "First of all. When in the hell did you realise all this shit? Like, how much you liked—" I correct him with the word "love". He concedes. " _Loved_ me. And, like, when you decided you were okay with just switching over from chicks to dicks." I glower at his crudity, but he just sends me a cheeky grin.

Rubbing a hand over my face, I decide he has a right to know. Hell, I'm the one who said I wanted him to want to know about me. Sighing, I start. "Well, there was always a feeling behind the surface, you know? Like, every time I was around you I had this emotion that I didn't really understand, so I decided to just think of it as fear to keep the worry off my chest. But then, Allison broke up with me after that whole 'Alpha in the school' thing, and I finally had time to investigate that feeling." My mouth turns up in a soft smile as I remember. "It kept growing every time I saw you, or heard your voice, or even your name, and soon enough I realised I was in love. Not the shallow kind I had with Allison, but a really powerful thing, something I'd risk my life for." I look up to him, wondering if any of this is sinking in. He's wearing an unreadable expression, but he's receptive so I decide to keep going.

"Soon enough, the love showed me new things, like lust…" I trail off, my cheeks flushing red. Derek smirks. I squirm. "Like, seriously, you don't know how hard it was to not just jump you every single time we touched, or spoke, or _fought_." I stare at Derek intensely for a few minutes, before gathering my bearings. "So, one night, I fell asleep thinking of you, and the next minute, I was on your porch, staring up at an extremely pissed off yet terribly sexy werewolf who looked like he was gonna rip my head off. Then we went inside, you confronted me about my feelings, and, I don't know…I heard your heartbeat quickening at one point and I took it to be attraction, so I just kinda pounced." I shrug, not really repentant about that part. Derek had really seemed into it at first.

Derek's eyes narrow into a glare. "I really fucking hated that, you know."

It's my time to smirk. "Really? 'Cuz Derek Junior sure seemed to enjoy it," I state, laughing a little.

Derek's glare turns deathly. "Yeah, maybe. But I fucking hate to be taken off guard. It freaks me out, Scott. I'm not gonna warn you twice."

My eyes widen, any trace of a grin gone from my face. I study Derek, and I can tell there's a story behind that, but I refrain from saying anything. Obviously, if he felt comfortable telling me that, he would. I'll just have to stick around and hear it when he's ready.

Derek seems grateful when I don't push the subject, instead continuing. "After that night, I felt shattered. Torn to pieces. Being denied by the man I love sent me spiraling into a depression that was hard to get over." I scratch the back of my neck, a slow sadness creeping into my tone. "Before that whole thing between us, Jackson and I got in a fight and I got suspended for a week. I was actually supposed to come back today." I shoot a pointed glance at Derek.

He shrugs his shoulders, looking a little ashamed of himself, for many things. Finally, he speaks. "Who's Jackson?" He asks.

I find myself laughing. "Come on, you've met him. Big, blond jock who walks around like he's the best thing since Deadmau5, and looks at others like we're something his dog just shat out."

Derek laughs. "Oh, yeah, that kid. I scared the piss outta him once." He leans back, thinking back on good times. He looks up again. "What's a Deadmau5?"

I groan into my palm, deciding not to answer. He shrugs. Then, suddenly, he looks up again, only a more serious expression on his face. "Scott, I'm sorry for hurting you so much." I shrug, about to say it didn't really matter, before he stops me mid-sentence. "No, it does matter. I let my anger out on you and didn't let you explain your actions. I'm really sorry about that." He holds my gaze, seriousness and apology in his hazel green eyes.

I smile. "Yeah, okay, I accept your apology," I answer, and suddenly, it's like nothing happened. We're both smiling at each other with these goofy looks on our faces, but he hasn't noticed yet so for now I can bask in the feelings he's showing for me.

Soon he grasps reality again and clears his throat, trying to look manly as he looks away from me, staring out the window. I snicker. Really, he's so cute sometimes. I tap his hand with my forefinger, but he doesn't look away from the scenery. I tap harder, and he finally admits to my existence, looking to me with a rude stare, as if to say, "What?"

I smile again. "I've told you everything, so it's time you spilled, Derek," I say, loving the way his name rolls off my tongue so easily. If we weren't having such a serious conversation, I'd be dragging him off to the restrooms to lick that frown off his face, but for now all I can do is stroke his hand that I'm clutching like it's my life force or something. Somehow, I realise with a grin, as I was talking to Derek, I warmed up.

Sighing, Derek sits back, gesturing with his free hand. "What do you wanna know?" He asks, trying and failing to look nonchalant about this. He's obviously not used to sharing information about himself, and I'm turning out to be an exception to the rule. My stomach twists in excitement as I think of how far we've gotten in such a small amount of time.

I smile goofily, and he gives me a look. I finally catch it and force myself to calm down a little. "Okay, really, I wanna know why the hell you ran away from me in the car," I say, mouth turning down in a little frown.

Derek rubs at the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. He lets out a big breath. "Well, you know, it was getting to be a little too much for me, you know?" He stops, as if that's enough for me. I prompt him on with a look. He huffs out another breath before continuing. "I mean, you're making me feel all these emotions, ones I'm not used to, at least haven't experienced in a while, and so I got spooked. I had to get out before I got caught up in everything and let you kiss me," he states, smirking even as he blushes.

My mouth twists, and I'm caught between feeling elated at his truthfulness (and admittance that he wants me too) and feeling annoyed at how light he's trying to make this. I guess that could be my next question. "Why do you always have to turn something into a joke, or change the subject, or embarrass me?" I ask, a little of my frustration evident in my tone.

Derek shrugs. "What do you expect? That's who I am, when I'm not seriously pissed off for being dragged into your teenage melodrama," he explains, like I should know this. This time I huff out a breath. Jesus, we're gonna have just as hard a time keeping from strangling each other as we do from making out with each other. Then again, I think I could come to enjoy that. A lovey-dovey smile appears on my face and Derek makes a disgusted noise, which I pretend not to notice. I'm too caught up in the possibilities of a future together to let him get to me.

Finally, I look back to him. "Are you as committed to this as I am?" I ask, a little vulnerability in my actions.

Derek bites his lip, mulling over his answer. After a few minutes pass, I put up my free hand. "Know what, fine, let's save that question for la—"

"No, wait," Derek says, cutting me off, a slow blush creeping onto his face. I study him. "I, uh," he hesitates, unsure of how to continue. I let him think it out before he speaks again. "I'd be lying if I said you didn't affect me. And obviously, I'm willing to let this continue, at least for now," he states, looking pointedly down at our hands, "but as to commitment…it's too early to say. I think we should, you know, date or whatever so we can sort our feelings out or something," he says, rubbing at his bicep uncomfortably.

I'm caught up in absolute pure joy. Never, in a million years, did I expect Derek to suggest we start going out. Before I can stop myself I bring our hands up, kissing his like I did in the car, except refraining from making it so dirty. He watches me, a little amused, then smiles at the contact of my lips on his skin. We stare into each other's eyes, speaking without using our mouths, and finally, finally, I start to really relax. Derek loves me. Not as much as I love him, but hey, I didn't start out loving him. He hasn't said it point-blank, but I can tell.

We finally pull away from each other, settling back down to our food, which is now cold, but we really don't give a shit. Not as long as we have each other to look up to and smile randomly at.

* * *

As Derek drops me off in front of the school, I try in vain to convince him to let me stay with him for the rest of the day. "Come on, Derek," I say, not even caring about the whine that runs through my voice, "school's almost over, my teacher's gonna hate me for walking in late, and Jackson'll probably be looking for a fight anyway," I say all this quickly, hoping my rapidity will confuse him and he'll just cave so he won't have to hear me whine again. No such luck.

Derek smirks at me. "Sorry, teeny-bopper, but you got a law that specifically states that if you don't go to school, it's declared truancy." I glare at him, hoping that if my powers of persuasion don't work, then maybe my anger will. He just shakes his head, laughing. "Yeah, Scott, you don't intimidate me at all," he states, arms crossed. I sigh, sinking down into my seat, pouting. He smirks again. "Alright, Kid, get out already, go learn something for once."

I look over to him, expression torn. I'm really still angry at him, but I'm more sad that I won't be able to see him for a few hours now. Before he can stop me, I lean forward, placing an innocent kiss on his cheek. He studies me, smiling a little, before he gives me my own little kiss on the cheek. Great. We've officially become first graders.

He laughs at my expression, before ruffling my hair. "Get going, Scott, before I really do change my mind and throw you out," he commands. I grumble, pick his hand up once more to kiss it goodbye, before I leave, watching him with my hands shrugged low in my pockets as he peels off, laughing at me. I gripe out a few cuss words before finally smiling slowly, caught up in the fact that I now have a boyfriend. A boyfriend named Derek. I can't contain my grin, walking slowly up the steps of the high school that now, somehow, doesn't seem so bad.

* * *

As I try to sneak into Chemistry, hoping that walking on your tiptoes actually works, keeping my sights set on Stiles' encouraging gestures, I jump when Mr. Harris, standing at the blackboard with his back to his students, suddenly speaks. "I was hoping that due to your recent actions, Mr. McCall, you would at least have the decency to show up to class on time, but I guess it is rather strange of me to expect that from you." He turns around, hands on hips with a disapproving glare sent directly at me.

I try to smile, but it turns into a sort of grimace. "Sorry, Mr. Harris, I had some…stomach issues," I say, ignoring my fellow students' giggles as they imagined it to have something to do with diarrhea or some other gross shit. I walk forward, holding up a slip of paper. "I have a note," I say, grateful for Derek complying and writing a fake note for my absence.

Mr. Harris' eyebrow raises, and he refuses to take the slip of paper. "I'm not going to dignify that fallacy by accepting it; I'll just take you off of being absent and hope that I'll be relocated to a better school in the near-future," he states dryly, shooing me off to Stiles' and my lab table. I grimace at Stiles on my way, receiving a sympathetic frown and angry shaken fist directed at Mr. Harris' back, quickly thwarted at Mr. Harris' bark of "Stilinski!"

By the time I make it to the table, Stiles has shrunk low in his seat, hoping to avoid Mr. Harris' anger. But as I sit next to him, he can't keep himself quiet. "What the hell happened with Derek?" He asks, extremely anxious to hear what happened. I smile, and he squirms. "Come on! You didn't answer any of my texts or calls so your phone musta been off. I've been dying to hear the news! He didn't hurt you again, right?"

I hold up a restraining hand. "Come on, Stiles. Derek's a great guy, stop expecting the worst of him," I say, pleading with him to at least try to understand the man I love. Stiles grumbles a little, but finally lets off a little. Not enough to keep himself from asking questions.

"Come on, can't you tell me what went down?" He lowers his voice, mindful of Mr. Harris and his creepy bat-like ears.

I sigh. "Well, if you have to know…Derek and I, we're…well, we're going out." I can't hide my self-satisfied grin as I say this, so happy to tell someone. I look up to Stiles, surprised to see that he's not really breathing. "Stiles?" I ask, grabbing his arm. I shake him, forcing him to allow air into his lungs. Finally, after a few minutes, it seems like he can talk.

"What…what the fuck?" He whisper-screams, and I place a quieting hand over his mouth, smiling sweetly in Mr. Harris' direction. He grimaces, obviously not wanting to talk to me, as he goes back to writing what looks like gibberish to me on the board.

When he's not looking, I whack Stiles in the back of his head, my face furious. "Keep it down, idiot!" I command, really not wanting to get in trouble so soon after I've been admitted back into the halls of our high school.

Stiles glares at me as he rubs the back of his head. "Jesus, sorry if I was surprised that one day you're crying over your lost love, then the next you magically turn out to be the guy's boyfriend. Why are you so wet anyway?" He adds this as an afterthought, only noticing my slightly shivering body just now.

I flush, the embarrassing moments of today that transpired rushing through my head. No fucking way I'm telling Stiles about it, though. I wave a hand, shooing his question off. "Not your problem. All I'm saying is, there's a lot of shit that went on today, and through it all Derek and I found the ability to find happiness in each other. Not that I didn't already know we could." I somehow frown and smile at the same time as I muse over this. Stiles just stares blankly at me. I sigh. "Look, seriously, there's no point in going over all the details, just please trust me about that, and start being happy that the love of my life and I are going out." I throw away my weird little half-frown-half-smile for a full-blown, excited grin.

Stiles smiles back at me. "Yeah, man, I'm really happy for you. I know how he makes you feel and I'm glad he's not gonna turn you down again." He pauses, studying my face. "He's not, right?" He asks, biting a thumbnail. He's obviously anxious not to have a repeat of depressed love-lorn Scott reappearing.

I send Stiles a reassuring smile. "Nah, dude, it's actually really cool now. Derek's, like, opening up to me and everything. I told him everything over lunch, and he told me a lot too." I stop, thinking over our little conversation. I set my mouth in a determined grin. "I still haven't heard everything, though, so I'm gonna have to remind him soon. He's picking me up after school, maybe I will then." I smile to myself, wondering what we'll do after school.

Stiles shakes his head slowly, still smiling. "Jesus, you're such a dope. Guess Derek's lucky to have such an awesome guy love him." He places a hand on my shoulder, congratulating me.

I smile in return. "You sure you don't have feelings for me?" I ask, teasing.

Stiles pulls a fake wounded face. "Oh, you got me, Scott. I love you so much, have been since we first met in pre-school; I decided then and there that I loved you forever, and have been secretly pining for you ever since!" He clutches at his chest to add to the dramatic effect.

Rolling my eyes and grinning, I respond in kind. "Oh, Stiles, I love you too!"

Our mutual laughter is interrupted by a voice I know well. "What do you know, Danny, looks like McCall and Stilinski like boys just as much as you!" I slowly turn around to see Jackson, smirking at me and Stiles.

I smirk back, taking in the injuries I caused to Jackson. I had regretted it at first, but now that I see my handiwork, I'm extremely proud of myself. "Didja have to go to the hospital?" I ask him, ignoring his words. They don't really matter to me; he doesn't even know I'm gay. The only thing that bothers me is people actually think I could be gay for Stiles. I suppress a shudder.

In response to my question, Jackson bristles. His mouth is open, about to start in with the insults, when Danny shushes us. "You know, somebody in this class actually wants to pass our midterms; you guys don't seem to really care, but leave me out of it." He gripes a little more at us before turning back around, scribbling some more notes down.

Jackson glares at me a little more before huffing out a breath and turning back around, listening to Mr. Harris' lecture. Stiles and I share a discreet high five before we stop talking, deciding to take Danny's warnings about midterms seriously and listen at least partially to what our teacher's saying. Too bad Derek's taking up too much of my thoughts to be able to even try to understand what Mr. Harris is blathering about.

* * *

As the final bell of the day rings, I shoot out of my chair, startling my incredibly old and extremely frail Math teacher. She raises her eyebrows at me. I apologise, not really paying attention, as I throw my backpack onto my person and fast walk to the door, pushing past other kids in my hurry to reach my boyfriend.

At my locker, I shove some random crap into my bag, hoping it's what I need, before I close it and turn on my heel to leave. Just as I do so, I run into Stiles. We topple to the floor. I land on my ass. Rubbing it, I glare at my so-called 'best friend'. "What the hell, Stiles?" I ask him, before I realise I'm taking up valuable Derek-time. "Never mind, I don't really care." I ignore him, quickly pulling myself up before shooting off toward the school doors, breathing a sigh of relief once I escape the structure. I grin excitedly to myself when I see his Camaro, parked garishly in front of the school's entrance.

Practically sprinting, I race to his car, opening the door with an incredibly large shit-eating grin on my face. He looks up from where he was looking, fiddling with the radio, only to be taken off-guard and pulled into a slow, torturously chaste kiss. Rubbing my chapped lips against Derek's slightly less-chapped ones, I fight the urge to use tongue, trying to keep in mind that he hasn't really agreed to anything other than a few dates. It's hard, though. I'm about to throw all the shit I said earlier out the door, just because I've experienced his taste before and it's fucking _amazing_ , when I'm suddenly cockblocked by a slap to the face. Literally.

Stumbling backwards out of the car, I fall back onto my ass. Looking up from the sidewalk and rubbing my sore muscle, I glare up at Derek. "What the hell, man?" I ask, tone accusatory.

Looking innocent, Derek just readjusts his seatbelt. "I was just defending myself against someone who promised no more sneak attacks," he states, shooting me a blatant glare before putting his car in drive. "And if this molester doesn't get in the goddamn car in five seconds, I'm leaving him to be beaten up by this Jason kid." He holds up a hand, then bends a pinkie down. "Four," he says, and I look back to see Jackson glaring at me. I quickly shoot up and into the car, just before Derek's thumb bends down and he races off, before I can even slam the door shut.

Pulling against the wind, I manage to shut the door without losing any limbs. I sigh, putting a seatbelt on before Derek manages to kill me. "It's Jackson, not Jason, by the way," I say, thinking back to what Derek said. He makes an uncaring noise as he switches lanes then yells at an idiot who cuts us off. I can't help but stare all lovey-dovey at him, imagining what I would do to make those cusses elicit from his mouth, only in pleasure instead.

Looking at me from the corners of his eyes, Derek quirks an eyebrow at my suddenly flushed face. I wave him off, shifting my pants to make them a little more comfortable for the constriction suddenly enforced by them. He shrugs.

Most of the car ride is silent, spent in contemplation of today's past events and events that could happen in the future. Suddenly, and much too soon, we pull up to my house, Derek idling in the driveway. I study Derek, wondering why we can't just hang out. I voice my query. "Hey, why don't you come in for a while?" I ask, a small smile on my face.

Derek studies me as well, eyebrow raised. "You gonna do anything without my okay?" He asks, eyes narrowed.

I sigh. "No, Derek, I won't. Just come on, man," I order, stepping out of the car. I shut the door on his sigh, then wait for him to exit his Camaro. Reluctantly, he pulls his keys out and in turn gets out, meeting me at the hood of the car. I smile at him before heading up the walk to the door, digging for my key and opening it.

Looking apprehensive, Derek wipes his shoes off before entering my house, staring at everything. I chuckle as he takes in the sights, so he looks at me, glaring. "What?" He snaps out, arms crossed.

My laughter dies down to a smile. "Well, you just look so mystified by it all, so I was wondering if your house ever looked inhabitable," I state.

Derek grins dangerously. "Oh, picking fights are we?" He asks, stuffing his hands in his pockets, looking deceivingly nonchalant.

Leaning back against a wall, I study my fingernails. "Well, not so much picking a fight as hoping our 'fight' will turn into a make out session," I concede, grin equally dangerous.

Derek bites back his laughter, covering it up with a growl. "We'll just have to see about that!" He exclaims, and he crouches, playful in his actions, grin transparent.

My eyes widen, not used to seeing this side to Derek. My grin widens. I like it. Hoping to keep the good mood going, I mimic Derek, crouching down and eliciting my own growl.

Still grinning, Derek moves first, going for my chest, and I jump, using my werewolf powers to spin in midair and land behind him, catching him by surprise and wrapping my arms around his waist. He laughs, trying to turn around and get free at the same time, but I just hold him tighter. No way I'm letting him go. As I place my mouth on his fully-exposed neck, mouthing at the flesh, I lose concentration at the feel and taste of him.

Derek moans, letting himself go for only a second, before he gently elbows me in the stomach. I hold my side, pretending he really hurt me. I double over. "Oh, Jesus," I wheeze out, coughing to add to the effect.

Derek, surprised, comes up to me. "Scott? You okay?" He asks, bending down to my level and reaching out a comforting hand. Grinning against my knees, I grab his wrist, pulling him down and jumping on top of him, using all of my strength to keep him from escaping this time. By the time he's finished squirming, looking for an opening, I've got my legs pinning his down, hands around his wrists keeping them from clawing at me, tongue in his mouth just because I can. Fuck taking things slow.

Growling, Derek tries once again to escape me, but I silence him by deepening our kiss, sucking on his tongue. He goes limp beneath me, fingernails digging into his palms as he tries to control his feelings. I release him from our kiss, staring down at him. "It's okay to let go, Derek," I whisper, eyes full of the love I've been trying to express for so long. His own are conflicted, unsure if he's ready to become vulnerable again and give in to his feelings. Placing a small, loving kiss on his lips, I smile down at Derek. "I love you, Derek," I state simply, meaning every word.

Staring up at me with a shocked, hard to read look, Derek's mouth pops open. Confused, I give him a questioning look. Face heating up, red tinting his entire skin, Derek whispers something. I can't hear it. Frustrated that he has to do something embarrassing, Derek sighs. "Sa—say it again?" He asks, licking his lips.

My gaze is still curious, before I realise. Smiling again, I kiss Derek's adorably reddened nose. "I," kiss to the forehead, "love," kiss to his right cheek, "you," kiss to his left cheek, "Derek," kiss to his jaw, "Hale." I end by kissing his lips, licking at them. He readily opens his mouth, tugging his hands out of my slackened grasp to place around my neck, pulling me further down. Smiling into the kiss, he bites my lip and runs a hand through my hair. Utterly boner-inducing. I'm about to move one of my hands under his shirt, when I hear a startled noise. Distracted, I look up from Derek, mid-kiss, to see my mother, shocked, taking in the sight of her only son making out with the town outcast. Who also just so happens to be male.

Derek, noticing my mom, quickly pulls away from me, jumping up and shooting away from me, as if Mom didn't already know what happened. Both Derek and I are flushed red, but I swallow my mortification down as I slowly stand up, pulling at the hem of my shirt. Mom's just standing there, keys midway to her pocket, purse dangling from her outstretched hand. I can understand her thought process: "First my son gets suspended, now he's making out with the most hated person in town? Who also happens to be _male_?" I stop myself from apologising in advance for the therapy she's gonna need for all the crazy shit I've done. And she doesn't even know I'm a werewolf.

"Mom," I say, but she cuts me off.

"No. Just…no. You two," she snaps, glaring first at me, then Derek, before setting her shit down, "sit the hell down. Right now." She points at the uncomfortable wooden chairs we almost never use, and now I really know just how deep in shit I am. I shoot Derek an apologetic look before I sit down, hoping that Mom decides to go easy on us.


End file.
